


KeiRaRaWeen

by Reyanth



Series: On Izuhiko [2]
Category: Durarara!!, K (Anime)
Genre: Cosplay, Crossover, Fujoshi antics, Halloween, Implied but not actual incest, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: It's Halloween and Kusanagi is taking advantage of the occasion to wine and dine Fushimi in neutral territory. Little does he know that chaos is about to be wrought by his resemblance to a certain Ikebukuro legend and the fact that Fushimi's styling for the night echoes the look of a certain movie star.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween all! 
> 
> This fic is set post Return of Kings with my story Frayed Taffeta as the background of Fushimi and Kusanagi’s relationship but it is designed to work as a standalone.
> 
> I’m still ruthlessly shipping Fushimi and Kusanagi and have basically taken it upon myself to fill the gaping chasm of this pairing in for the K fandom in general. ;) In the midst of this, I have been plagued by the constant irritation in the back of my head that Kusanagi of K and Shizuo of Durarara are so fascinatingly similar. Somehow, my desire to write that crossover pairing (which has been done, of course... hasn't it?) someday clashed with my desire to write Izuhiko and culminated in this Halloween cosplay crack experiment. (Something about this pairing just keeps encouraging me to try new things!) This is set heavily in Durarara territory (my first foray into this fandom) so it probably won’t make much sense to anyone who isn’t familiar with Durarara even though Fushimi and Kusanagi are the central characters. I hope that those who do read will enjoy and find the concept as amusing (and plausible) as I did.

Chitose popped his head in through the door of the bar and called out to Kusanagi. “Hey, it’s cool if I bring a few girls in for a party on Halloween, right?”

“Great idea! It’s been damn gloomy around here since we lost our powers,” enthused Fujishima. “Yo Eric, it’s about time you got a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“Yata-san could probably use a girlfriend more than I could,” Eric mumbled.

While most of the guys in the room looked nervous and some a little disturbed at the thought, Anna ignored the frantic glances in her direction and said primly, “I think Yata-san would prefer it if you invited some nice boys along, too.”

Laughing far too loudly, Yata clapped her on the back. “Nice try, Anna, but I aint lettin’ any of Chitose’s friends within a block of you!”

“No, I meant for you-”

“AHAHAHAHAHA-Soooo, Kusanagi-”

“Sorry guys. No can do, unless Rikio agrees to open the bar that night. I got plans.”

“Plans?” asked Anna innocently.

“Plans?” echoed several male voices suspiciously.

“Plans,” Kusanagi repeated, putting an end to the outward speculation.

*

Fushimi checked his watch again, wondering if the train driver knew how important a minute could be. The digital time table said the departure time would be 17:47. His watch said 17:48. When the grievously late steel deathtrap finally arrived, it was 17:49. Fushimi was going to be delayed for his 18:00 rendezvous in Ikebukuro.

The only thing worse than knowing he was going to be late, was knowing that his date was probably going to be even later. He could have taken more time to search for his missing glasses instead of resorting to the contacts he hated if his sense of duty wasn’t so damn irresistible.

This whole thing was stupid, anyway. Why did they have to go all the way to Ikebukuro?

A buzz from his PDA alerted Fushimi to a message received.

17:50 - Izu

_**See you soon, babe.**_

He sighed. Why did Izumo have to be so enthusiastic about stuff like this? It was actually kind of adorable and too sweet to complain about, but still a pain.

Seriously. What was the big deal about hanging out together on Halloween, anyway? It wasn’t like it was Christmas or Valentines… Not that Fushimi would be seen in public on either of those trademarked date nights…

So that was it.

Izumo knew he’d never get Fushimi to go out with him on the major couples’ holidays, so he’d organized this little outing while Fushimi’s guard was down. The realization was almost enough to make him slip out the doors at Takadanobaba and head back the way he’d come.

Another buzz alerted him to a picture awaiting his scrutiny.

17:50 – Izu

_< Fuzzy black cat ears>_

Fushimi grit his teeth.

Another buzz.

17:51 – Izu

_< Soft and fluffy, floppy long puppy ears, all golden and curly and undeniably adorable> _

-especially when imagined atop Izumo’s golden head. Damn him.

The train pulled in to Mejiro and Fushimi lost another opportunity to escape as the doors opened and then closed. In the press of people, someone was shoved up against him from behind, and Fushimi’s spine straightened in affront. He waited. The body only rocked lightly against him as the train clunked into action.

One stop. He only had to go one more stop.

The train shook as it hit an uneven spot of the rail and Fushimi almost lost his balance but an arm snaked about his waist to hold him upright. Before he could shove his body up against the assailant to create room enough to turn and throw a punch, a sexy voice like melted jasmine honey spoke at his ear.

“Trick or treat.”

Something came down on his head and Fushimi closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of tobacco and fainter trace of spirits all overshadowed with strawberry mints. Amid the crush of bodies, there was a false sense of privacy of sorts, which kept Fushimi from feeling too much shame when the arm encircling him loosened a little and Izumo’s hand slid down from his hip to grope his package once.

“Give me something good to eat,” the bartender breathed into his ear in English.

Damn him to hell but he knew how to turn Fushimi on in the worst kinds of ways.

“We’re here,” Fushimi announced, refusing to show weakness by clearing his throat despite the gruff, gravelly crunch to his tone. He led Izumo out of the car and onto the bustling platform. All around them were vampires, witches, pumpkins, anime characters, historical figures, and all sorts of random get-ups.　It was surreal enough that he let Izumo spin him and plant one succinct kiss on his lips right there in public. It was just one moment; hardly noted among a stream of people rushing to the train or pouring from the platform into the station. Fushimi wasn’t even sure it had really happened.

He was too distracted letting a slow grin form as he took in the sight of those pretty golden dog ears flopping about on Izumo’s head. “They look good on you,” he said.

“You should see yourself,” Izumo complimented, then moved his arm to Fushimi’s elbow and guided him toward the stairs.

Belatedly, Fushimi remembered he was supposed to be annoyed. “Why are we here?” he asked, letting as much irritability color his voice as he was capable of—which was quite a lot indeed.

“As I’m sure you cottoned on to already, I thought Halloween would be a more agreeable date night than other serialized holidays,” Izumo told him quite bluntly.

Fushimi grunted as he swiped his way through the ticket gate at the bottom of the stairs and swung back toward Izumo who effortlessly linked back up with him.

“I mean, why _here_? Why did we have to come all the way to Ikebukuro?”

“Because, my dear Saru, I want you all to myself and there are too many prying eyes within HOMRA or Sceptre 4 territory. Here, we can just be two regular, openly gay hotties going about our business unremarkably.”

“You’re nuts.”

“What about them?”

“Izu!”

Laughing, the bartender slightly loosened the red kerchief fastened about his collar in place of a tie. He looked down at Fushimi from the corners of his eyes in that way that made the young officer think the red aura might not be gone after all because it made his blood boil.

“The beautiful thing about Halloween, Saru, is that people tend to mind their own business. Anything goes. Let’s just have some fun.”

*

18:01 - Celty <3

_\--Shinra!—_

18:01 - Shinra

_~~Celty!!! <3 <3 <3~~_

18:02 - Celty <3

_\--Shinra, I just saw Shizuo get off the train and kiss someone!--_

_…_

_…_

_… …_

18:04 - Shinra

_~~Is there a problem?~~_

18:06 - Celty <3

_\--I was passing by the station on the other side of the tracks so I wasn’t really close enough to see clearly but… it looked like his brother Kasuka… You know, the actor…--_

18:08 - Shinra

_~~Celty, love, I think you need to stop consorting with Karisawa-san. Her Fujoshi ways are starting to stick.~~_

18:09 - Celty <3

_\--Fine. If you don’t believe me, I’ll tail them and prove it!--_

18:09 - Shinra

_~~You don’t have to do that!~~_

_…_

18:10 - Shinra

_~~Celty?~~_

18:10 - Shinra

_~~I believe you.~~_

_… …_

18:11 - Shinra

_~~Please come home.~~_

18:12 - Shinra

_~~Please?~~_

*

Dinner was French. Desert was Italian. The date was as romantic as Kusanagi could get away with as far as Saruhiko was concerned. The candle-light was permissible because it was Halloween and the restaurant looked like the inside of a vampiric coven; all black velvet and red chiffon. The gelato, they picked up to go at the mall and then ate together in a neat little park filled with roaming kitties and a wide variety of people in various states of dress-up.

It was nice, out there under the sky, cloaked in enough darkness to feel like they were alone but with enough light that the park felt safe and cozy. With his arm about Saru’s shoulder, Kusanagi felt as warm as he ever needed to be, even with the strawberry gelato cooling his tongue and the autumn breeze caressing his cheeks. Saruhiko seemed perfectly at home, his hair swept back off his face, held back by the very _moe_ headband Kusanagi could hardly believe he’d worn without complaint all evening.

Watching that pink tongue dart out like a cat’s lapping up milk, Kusanagi wondered how Fushimi’s blueberry gelato might taste mixed with his own and waited for his boyfriend to take a proper mouthful before biting into his own and leaning down to find out. A startled noise greeted him, but it turned into a soft moan as their tongues cut through the melting desert to dance and entwine.

The sweet berry flavors blended admirably and Kusanagi took his time savoring them, along with that heady flavor that was all Saruhiko. He was reluctant to let that wily tongue escape and clamped down lightly with his teeth as Saru pulled away. He bit down harder on the tip, capturing it against his boyfriend’s will, but only held it for a moment, sucking provocatively before releasing his hold and straightening to look down at the flushed and panting young man.

“We’ve got company,” Saruhiko breathed.

The irritation and reluctance he spoke with soothed some of Kusanagi’s frustration but the remainder needed an outlet and he turned it on the creeps who were trying to sneak up on them from behind the bench upon which they sat. One dark look from behind his shades froze them for a moment, then another yelled out a battle cry from the opposite direction and they all pounced.

Knives and fists flew, but more and more guys seemed to pour out of the dark; some wearing yellow scarves, others not—and the two factions seemed to be fighting one another. In the chaos, Kusanagi lost sight of Saruhiko for a moment, then found him again, unconscious on the stone pavement with a trickle of red dripping down from his hairline. For the next five minutes, Kusanagi saw red. Then he saw nothing but black.

*

“Kadota-san, you’re not gonna believe this but the Yellow Scarves have Heiwajima Shizuo!”

“The way I heard it, the Blue Squares have his brother, Kasuka!”

“Nah, they both got killed, man. It was brutal! I heard it from my cousin whose senpai was at the park when it happened!”

“Togusa?”

“The majority of the Dollars have it that both Shizuo and Kasuka are being held jointly by those of both color gangs who didn’t go down in the fight.”

“Sounds like our kinda party,” drawled Yumasaki, with that particular light in his eyes that spoke of a brewing inferno. “How about it Kadota, can we go trick or treating?”

“Sounds like I’ll need to get myself a costume…”

“Just leave that to me and… Erika? Erika!?”

Crashing to his knees before his fallen comrade, Yumasaki shook her blood-soaked upper body while Togusa searched for the cause of the near-fatal nosebleed.

“Uh, you might wanna take a look at this… or maybe not. Your call,” he said cryptically to Kadota.

The image that remained open on Erika’s screen spoke loudly and clearly for the bloody nose that had taken her out of commission. In the shadows, various gangsters crept through trees and bushes, converging on the Heiwajima brothers—who were adorned with animal ears… and had their tongues stuck right down each other’s throats.

Kadota cleared his throat, trying to decide whether he was turned on, disturbed, or any of the many options in between. While he was making up his mind, he tapped out of the screen to check the sender…

21:23 - Seruchi

_\--Erika, only you can answer this question… Is it weird that I find this very, very sexy?--_

Erika must have typed the name into her address book herself with that mangled romaji but the sender must be Celty. Once they had Erika back on her feet, maybe Celty could tell them what was going on and where.

*

Putting aside her internal struggle over the incredibly wrong but also incredibly hot scene that had distracted her from the danger encroaching upon her friend, Celty pressed “send” on her text and then almost jumped into the fray—but then she reminded herself that this was Shizuo and it would probably be over before she got close enough to be of use.

Only, it wasn’t. By the time she realized the fight wasn’t going to end immediately, Celty became aware of a presence behind her, and turned just as a hand reached out to clasp her shoulder. Before she could react, she recognized the man who had approached her as none other than Shizuo himself, even if he was dressed in some kind of sexy parody of a military uniform. But how could Shizuo be here… and also there?

Shaking his head silently, Shizuo turned his attention to the kerfuffle in the park, staying his hand as first one guy went down and then the Shizuo look-a-like. Celty typed frantically.

_\--Do you think it’s a trap?--_

_\--Some kind of act? A play?--_

_\--I’m guessing that’s not Kasuka.--_

“Kasuka’s over there,” Shizuo muttered, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.

Across the street, Kasuka lounged against a wall in a blue uniform similar to Shizuo’s. On closer inspection of the man beside her, though, Celty realized that the main difference was that the lower half of Shizuo’s costume was a skirt—and a scandalously short one at that, despite the long blue falls of cloth that covered absolutely nothing.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Celty was glad she didn’t have a nose because it would surely be bleeding. Shinra had better wait up for her.

_\--What should we do?--_

“Cosplayers. Not my problem,” Shizuo responded with a shrug.

_\--Last time someone pretended to be you, you didn’t take it so well.--_

Again, Shizuo shrugged. “It’s Halloween.”

_\--So we just let this go?--_

“Probably some kind of color gang rivalry. Me? I’ve got a date with Kasuka. See you later.”

_\--Didyoujustsaydate!?--_

Shizuo was already in the middle of the road by the time Celty finished typing her frantic question. On any other night, she wouldn’t have even considered that “a date” implied anything other than some family time procured. Tonight, all sorts of images were flying through her head. She really needed to get home to Shinra. But could she really just abandon those two guys…?

Returning her attention to the scene, she found that the Yellow Scarves and Blue Squares still standing had come to some kind of uneasy agreement, both hovering over the two unconscious targets. Was it some kind of Romeo and Juliet situation? Members of rival gangs who had fallen in love and incurred the wrath of both sides… How sad!

Honestly, this kind of thing would be better handled by Erika. She had a way with complicated love stories and BL material that Celty was too new to. Charging in alone, she might only complicate matters. Retreating from her too-visible position, she found a good spot to crouch behind some trees and began to text the details.

*

When Fushimi came to, he was propped up back to back with someone and tied round with crude rope. His best guess was that his back-rest was probably Izumo.

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to discern more of the situation before he revealed his hand—in this case, that he was conscious and cognizant. As he focused on sound, a familiar voice came to his ears, but he couldn’t place where he might have heard it before.

“How thick can you idiots be? This isn’t Heiwajima Kasuka any more than that imposter those moronic Blue Squares went after is Heiwajima Shizuo.”

“Looks like them.”

“That’s gotta be Shizuo. Sunglasses, even at night-”

“Bar-tender’s clothes-”

“Slick blond hair-”

“So cool…”

“Then again, if it really was Heiwajima Shizuo, you’d think he’d have put up more of a fight.”

“I heard he doesn’t like fighting.”

“Anyway, who else could it be but the Heiwajima brothers? Can’t be two sets of guys looking like that, wearing those clothes…”

“Has it occurred to any of you thick-wits that it’s Halloween? There’s probably loads of people wearing sunglasses, suits and vests, and dressing up as movie stars because they’re both famous! More importantly… What the hell were you thinking? I never ordered anyone to capture Shizuo’s brother! You’re LUCKY that’s not Shizuo over there… Just let them go already.”

“Come on, Masaomi-”

Masaomi? Dewa? No, that wasn’t why the voice was familiar.

“Saru, who’s this Shizuo you keep talkin’ ‘bout?”

Oh, shit. That’s why he sounded so familiar! This Masaomi guy sounded exactly like Fushimi himself. Subtly, he nudged Izumo, trying to convey that it wasn’t him speaking.

“Ow! What the hell, Saru? What’s going on here?”

So much for concealing his hand. Fushimi lifted his head and looked around at his captors as he spoke to reassure Izumo.

“I’m not the one talking about Heiwajima Shizuo, but from memory, he was investigated as a strain a few years back. He’s not, for the record. Just some freakishly strong debt collector. As for what’s going on here, it would seem we’ve been mistaken for siblings-” he broke off with a snort, “-and targeted by rival gangs of some sort.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient. Wonder if they’ve heard of HOMRA?”

The way several people blanched, Fushimi was willing to bet they had.

“More importantly,” Fushimi began, raising his voice so that it travelled clearly even to those behind him, “I am Fushimi Saruhiko of Sceptre 4. By the authority of the Japanese government, I can—and will—arrest every single one of you if you don’t untie me this instant.”

When those wearing yellow stared at him, flicked their heads to a startled blond and then began to swing back and forth between them as if they’d seen a ghost, Fushimi let out an angry click of the tongue. This vocal resemblance was beginning to irk him.

“What a pain in the ass,” he groaned. “Let. Us. Go.”

“Saru, down!”

Having spent a great deal of time around the acrid scent of burning things, Izumo must have been thoroughly attuned to all things fire. He leaned hard to the left, tipping them both over just in time as a Molotov cocktail flew right over them and exploded along the front lines of those flanking them.

As one, Fushimi and Izumo rolled toward the flame, guiding the ropes to the heat with such precision that their bonds burned through before their clothes suffered more than a singeing. Even as Fushimi shook his limbs to renew circulation, Izumo was on his feet, whirling the rope like a flaming whip in a protective circle. He was grinning like a maniac, as if he’d missed the touch of fire.

Fushimi was in luck as one of the guys in yellow dropped a handful of knives he had clearly gone to pains to collect. Snatching them up, he slipped five away and kept one to hand, standing at Izumo’s back.

By the time he spared his attention for those who had facilitated their escape, the attack was mostly over and most of the gang members had fled. Fushimi peered after those retreating, trying to take in as much detail as he could to identify them at a later date. His branch of Sceptre 4 rarely mobilized in areas not frequented by strains but he was sure he could put together enough of a case to justify it.

Then Izumo’s hand curled blindly around his, their backs pressed comfortingly together, and he was just glad they were both ok.

“Oh, wow! The cosplay is a little off but it’s so hot I don’t even care! Please, you _have_ to tell me! Which one of you is the seme and which is the uke? Or do you switch? Cause that could be really, really sexy!”

“Never mind her! Tell me where you learned to manipulate a rope like that? That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Almost like flicking fire around—but somehow you kept it from being blown out! That’s some precision, right there! Will you compare techniques with me? I _really_ need to try that lasso move!”

*

“Remind me to stay away from Ikebukuro,” Kusanagi groaned later that night after they had retired to Saruhiko’s apartment (which was not only closer but also not crawling with Halloween-crazy HOMRA folk), showered, and treated various injuries and a burn or two.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Saruhiko mumbled sleepily, already burrowed into his chest and ready to sleep off the exertion of the night. “You really do look like that Heiwajima guy, come to think of it. He seems to be in the thick of all the weird stuff that goes down over there.”

“They thought we were brothers, you know,” Kusanagi drawled, jostling Saruhiko to provoke a response to that amusing tidbit.

Saru shifted, burrowed again, and made a noncommittal noise. Just when Kusanagi was resigned that he wasn’t going to get a rise out of that—or any other kinds of rises out of Saru tonight—his boyfriend spoke.

“If I had a brother as sexy as you, I’d probably have to kill myself—or become a priest.”

“Hmmm, that could be a good look for next Halloween—a cat-boy priest.”

“Why does it have to be a cat-boy priest?” Saruhiko asked, raising his head to glare what he thought of that.

Izumo chuckled and grabbed the headband off the bedside table, slipping it back over Saru’s ears and arranging his hair around his face. “Because those look so damn hot on you.”

To his surprise, a little smile crept over one side of Saru’s lips. “Put yours on,” he instructed, then changed his mind. “Wait. Let me.”

Sitting up and committed now to wakefulness, Saruhiko reached over and took up the dog’s ears Kusanagi had chosen with great deliberation. He’d settled on these over the tiger’s ears because the golden tone of the puppy pair matched his hair, but every time Saru looked at him, he felt more and more justified in his choice. There was something about these ears that triggered a response in Saru that was both soft and gooey and a little bit molten hot, too.

Carefully, he fluffed up Kusanagi’s washed and dried hair and pulled it forward about his face, then placed the ears with attentive precision and sat back to survey the result, squinting a little without his glasses. They stared at each other for a few moments before Kusanagi couldn’t contain himself.

“Wan,” he barked, breathily, already moving in for a kiss.

“Nyan,” responded Saru, stretching out his tongue so that both appendages met in mid-air before their lips caught up and closed the kiss.

*

If an R-rated and rather controversial doujinshi hit the shelves of K-Books in Ikebukuro a month later that had local groupies fainting left-right-and-center, the muses never heard of it. Their doppelgangers, however, were plagued with all kinds of scandal and speculation. If Celty Sturluson and Erika Karisawa were suddenly a little richer, who could blame them for capitalizing on a proven formula?

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, I really wish I could draw... 
> 
> Anyway, Happy Halloween!  
> "Trick or treat, trick or treat, give me something good to eat! - or just comments. Those are good, too." ;)


End file.
